


Ties That Bind

by St_Salieri



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-02-16
Updated: 2006-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 07:59:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/636779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/St_Salieri/pseuds/St_Salieri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Buffy tries to convince Spike to leave the school basement.  Takes place immediately before <i>Him</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ties That Bind

"Spike?"

He wasn't where she'd left him. Hell, she wasn't even sure she was in the right place herself. _I knew I should have left a trail of breadcrumbs._

The school basement seemed to have grown even darker and creepier since the last time she'd been down there, if that was at all possible. The unfathomable maze of twisted corridors and passages was as unfathomable as ever. Somewhere nearby a door swung shut with a hollow boom, and Buffy jumped.

If something down here was trying to scare her away, they could just forget it. She wasn't leaving without what she'd come for.

Buffy studied the area around her and sighed in disgust. She'd completely lost track of where she was. It was as if the walls around her kept shifting positions. She was half tempted to backtrack and try to find the stairs again, just to get her bearings before continuing her search. She was just about to turn around when she heard the muffled sound of a voice. It appeared to be muttering to itself. Following the sound of the voice, Buffy rounded several corners before coming upon the very thing she'd been searching for.

Spike sat huddled in the corner of a small room that appeared to be filled with surplus furniture, talking to himself in a low voice.

_Wait a second..._

The hairs on the back of Buffy's neck stood on end. He wasn't talking to himself; he appeared to be carrying on a conversation with an invisible person on the other side of the room. Buffy followed his gaze to the opposite corner, where she saw...nothing. She shivered. Walking over to his corner, she crouched down next to him.

"Spike?"

No response, not that she was surprised. She heard a faint groan in the near distance, followed by the thin sigh of moving air. _It's the furnace,_ she told herself, but she couldn't help the way her stomach twisted. The sound reminded her too much of a sleeping beast about to awaken. There was something very wrong in this place.

"Spike," she said firmly. " _William_. It's time to go."

Spike stirred, uncurling his fingers from where they had been clenched in his hair. "So sorry," he said calmly, staring at a point somewhere over Buffy's shoulder. "Spike's not here right now."

"No kidding," Buffy muttered. She heard a faint scrabbling, skittering sound from the far corner of the room. Rats? Or something worse? She _really_ didn't want to know. Spike straightened himself and started to push past her. He looked shocked when he bumped into her, falling back into the corner with a look of surprise on his face.

"You came back." It wasn't a question, but she nodded.

"I told you I would."

Buffy fought the urge to stand up, to get away from the corner, to get away from _him_. Her skin felt twitchy when he was too near, and she hated the way she had flinched when he'd touched her. There was a part of her that still wanted to curse at him for the way he betrayed her, and no amount of penance on his part could touch it. And when he looked at her that way -- so altered, so un-Spike-like -- she wanted to scream at him and comfort him in equal parts. She didn't know who this man was anymore.

_It's what you wanted, right?_

_No. I never asked for this. I don't know to fix this._

It seemed to be her destiny to be the caretaker of damaged souled vampires. _Huh. Maybe I should open a halfway house._

Buffy bit back on the slightly hysterical giggle that threatened to erupt. Now that she'd found Spike, she had to convince him to come with her.

"Spike," she said. "We're getting you out of here. You remember?"

He nodded slowly, twisting his fingers together. "I remember." He looked over at the far corner of the room, and his eyes softened. "If I do, will you sing to me again?"

_...sing to him?_

"We have to leave," she said firmly. "Spike, you're practically on top of the Hellmouth. It's doing things to you. You're seeing things that aren't there."

He frowned at that, looking down at his hands. "Not here. I'm not here. I don't know where I went."

"You're here," Buffy assured him, trying for a lighter tone. "I can see you. I can smell you. Which, you know, is just one more reason to go check out your new digs. I hear it's got a shower and everything." She forced a smile, but he wasn't looking at her.

"Nothing," he whispered. "A feather, a hair, a trifle. Gone on the breeze, blown away. Not worth fighting for."

Buffy noticed that he had something in his hand, a thread or a piece of string. It was twined around his fingers, and he was picking at it. He glanced at the far side of the room and let out a manic giggle.

"Here and gone, here and gone," he singsonged. "Floccinaucinihilipilification." He cocked his head. "Sounds like music. Needs a rhyme." Then his face twisted and he tore at the thread twined around his hand. "Not worth it," he moaned.

_Okay, that's it._

"Spike!" she said sharply, grabbing his shoulders and giving him a shake. He caught his breath and looked at her as if seeing her for the first time. Buffy let her hands drop, keeping one arm on his elbow. "Can you feel me?" she asked. "I'm real. I'm real, and you're real, and we're getting the hell out of here, together. Are you coming?"

Spike blinked at her, then tightened his jaw and nodded firmly. "I want to go."

Buffy sighed in relief, standing up and then reaching down to pull him to his feet. She kept her hand on his arm, even though his touch agitated her already frazzled nerves. She didn't know why, but it seemed to keep his ghosts at bay. Without another word, without giving him the chance to change his mind, she took him with her to find the exit.

 

*********

The evening was soft and purple, its freshness a welcome relief after the stifling air of the basement. The sun had dipped below the horizon, and a few stars had started to glimmer. Buffy took a deep breath and let her eyes fall closed for a moment. When she opened them, she saw Dawn and Xander standing on the curb next to his car. Dawn was sporting a raised eyebrow, her arms crossed defensively across her chest and a stake tucked rather obtrusively into her waistband. Buffy rolled her eyes.

"My straining sense glimpsed the bright burden of the heavenly cars through a round hole," Spike whispered in her ear.

Buffy jumped at the cool breath on her neck. In her appreciation of the night air, she'd almost forgotten that he was standing right behind her. Was that a good thing, a sign of progress on her part, that she wasn't so hyper-aware of his presence? She honestly didn't know.

"See?" she said, turning to him. "There's Dawn and Xander. We're going to take you to Xander's new place." It won't be as luxurious as his parents' basement, but...." She trailed off. As lame as it was, the joke had felt like a necessity. She tried to hold back a sudden rush of frustration, and bit her tongue before she could snap at him. It wasn't his fault he wasn't better yet, but her inability to help him made her feel powerless, which made her feel angry. Spike shouldn't be like this. She shouldn't have to talk to him like he was a child.

Spike was giving her that odd stare again, as if he could see right through her. It sent chills up her spine. He blinked at her a moment, then turned his eyes to the heavens and the deepening night.

"By this we climbed," he murmured, "and thence came forth, to look once more upon the stars."

He turned and gave one last glance at the darkened door behind them, cocking his head as if listening to a voice only he could hear.

_Enough._

Gripped by a sudden fear that he would follow that voice back down into the depths of the basement, she reached in desperation for the one thing that had worked for him before.

His hand was cool and dry under hers. They had always been so good when they touched.

"Spike," she said softly. "You with me?"

"Yeah," he said, staring down at the sight of her fingers circling his wrist. "Right here." Buffy reached down with her other hand to gently unwind the bits of thread that still clung to his fingers. She lightly shook her hand, letting the thread float free on the breeze, and released him after a final squeeze.

"Time to get back to the real world," she murmured.

Buffy turned her back on him and started toward the car. He would either follow her or he wouldn't, but she wouldn't drag him there. _Come on, Spike._ After a long moment, she heard his footsteps following behind her, and gave a faint smile.

Leaving the school behind them, she led him into the night.

 

**Author's Note:**

> The original request was to write a fic using the word [floccinaucinihilipilification](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Floccinaucinihilipilificate). I have to say that [](http://sweet-ali.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://sweet-ali.livejournal.com/)**sweet_ali** 's idea of having Buffy use word-of-the-day toilet paper was much funnier. Also, Spike's last two lines are from the final stanza of Dante's _Inferno_. I don't think Spike would be using the Dorothy Sayers 1949 translation, but...just go with it. :)


End file.
